HISTORY XXVI.—On the twenty-eighth of March, 1894, at noon, in the open street in Chicago, Guy T. Olmstead fired a revolver at a letter-carrier named William L. Clifford. He came up from behind, and deliberately fired four shots, the first entering Clifford's loins, the other three penetrating the back of his head, so that the man fell and was supposed to be fatally wounded. Olmstead made little attempt to escape, as a crowd rushed up with the usual cry of "Lynch him!" but waved his revolver, exclaiming: "I'll never be taken alive!" and when a police-officer disarmed him: "Don't take my gun; let me finish what I have to do." This was evidently an allusion, as will be seen later on, to an intention to destroy himself. He eagerly entered the prison-van, however, to escape the threatening mob.
Olmstead, who was 30 years of age, was born near Danville, Ill., in which city he lived for many years. Both parents were born in Illinois. His father, some twenty years ago, shot and nearly killed a wealthy coal operator, induced to commit the crime, it is said, by a secret organization of a hundred prominent citizens to whom the victim had made himself obnoxious by bringing suits against them for trivial causes. The victim became insane, but the criminal was never punished, and died a few years later at the age of 44. This man had another son who was considered peculiar.
Guy Olmstead began to show signs of sexual perversity at the age of 12. He was seduced (we are led to believe) by a man who occupied the same bedroom. Olmstead's early history is not clear from the data to hand. It appears that he began his career as a schoolteacher in Connecticut, and that he there married the daughter of a prosperous farmer; but shortly after he "fell in love" with her male cousin, whom he describes as a very handsome young man. This led to a separation from his wife, and he went West.
He was never considered perfectly sane, and from October, 1886, to May, 1889 he was in the Kankakee Insane Asylum. His illness was reported as of three years' duration, and caused by general ill-health; heredity doubtful, habits good, occupation that of a schoolteacher. His condition was diagnosed as paranoia. On admission he was irritable, alternately excited and depressed. He returned home in good condition.
At this period, and again when examined later, Olmstead's physical condition is described as, on the whole, normal and fairly good. Height, 5 feet 8 inches; weight, 159 pounds. Special senses normal; genitals abnormally small, with rudimentary penis. His head is asymmetrical, and is full at the occiput, slightly sunken at the bregma, and the forehead is low. His cephalic index is 78. The hair is sandy, and normal in amount over head, face, and body. His eyes are gray, small, and deeply set; the zygomæ are normal. The nose is large and very thin. There is arrested development of upper jaw. The ears are excessively developed and malformed. The face is very much lined, the nasolabial fissure is deeply cut, and there are well-marked horizontal wrinkles on the forehead, so that he looks at least ten years older than his actual age. The upper jaw is of partial V-shape, the lower well developed. The teeth and their tubercles and the alveolar process are normal. The breasts are full. The body is generally well developed; the hands and feet are large.
Olmstead's history is defective for some years after he left Kankakee. In October, 1892, we hear of him as a letter-carrier in Chicago. During the following summer he developed a passion for William Clifford, a fellow letter-carrier about his own age, also previously a schoolteacher, and regarded as one of the most reliable and efficient men in the service. For a time Clifford seems to have shared this passion, or to have submitted to it, but he quickly ended the relationship and urged his friend to undergo medical treatment, offering to pay the expenses himself. Olmstead continued to write letters of the most passionate description to Clifford, and followed him about constantly until the latter's life was made miserable. In December, 1893, Clifford placed the letters in the postmaster's hands, and Olmstead was requested to resign at once. Olmstead complained to the Civil Service Commission at Washington that he had been dismissed without cause, and also applied for reinstatement, but without success.
In the meanwhile, apparently on the advice of friends, he went into hospital, and in the middle of February, 1894, his testicles were removed. No report from the hospital is to hand. The effect of removing the testicles was far from beneficial, and he began to suffer from hysterical melancholia. A little later he went into hospital again. On March 19th he wrote to Dr. Talbot from the Mercy Hospital, Chicago: "I returned to Chicago last Wednesday night, but felt so miserable I concluded to enter a hospital again, and so came to Mercy, which is very good as hospitals go. But I might as well go to Hades as far as any hope of my getting well is concerned. I am utterly incorrigible, utterly incurable, and utterly impossible. At home I thought for a time that I was cured, but I was mistaken, and after seeing Clifford last Thursday I have grown worse than ever so far as my passion for him is concerned. Heaven, only knows how hard I have tried to make a decent creature out of myself, but my vileness is uncontrollable, and I might as well give up and die. I wonder if the doctors knew that after emasculation it was possible for a man to have erections, commit masturbation, and have the same passion as before. I am ashamed of myself; I hate myself; but I can't help it. I have friends among nice people, play the piano, love music, books, and everything that is beautiful and elevating; yet they can't elevate me, because this load of inborn vileness drags me down and prevents my perfect enjoyment of anything. Doctors are the only ones who understand and know my helplessness before this monster. I think and work till my brain whirls, and I can scarce refrain from crying out my troubles." This letter was written a few days before the crime was committed.
When conveyed to the police station Olmstead completely broke down and wept bitterly, crying: "Oh! Will, Will, come to me! Why don't you kill me and let me go to him!" (At this time he supposed he had killed Clifford.) A letter was found on him, as follows: "Mercy, March 27th. To Him Who Cares to Read: Fearing that my motives in killing Clifford and myself may be misunderstood, I write this to explain the cause of this homicide and suicide. Last summer Clifford and I began a friendship which developed into love." He then recited the details of the friendship, and continued: "After playing a Liszt rhapsody for Clifford over and over, he said that when our time to die came he hoped we would die together, listening to such glorious music as that. Our time has now come to die, but death will not be accompanied by music. Clifford's love has, alas! turned to deadly hatred. For some reason Clifford suddenly ended our relations and friendship." In his cell he behaved in a wildly excited manner, and made several attempts at suicide; so that he had to be closely watched. A few weeks later he wrote to Dr. Talbot: "Cook County Gaol, April 23. I feel as though I had neglected you in not writing you in all this time, though you may not care to hear from me, as I have never done anything but trespass on your kindness. But please do me the justice of thinking that I never expected all this trouble, as I thought Will and I would be in our graves and at peace long before this. But my plans failed miserably. Poor Will was not dead, and I was grabbed before I could shoot myself. I think Will really shot himself, and I feel certain others will think so, too, when the whole story comes out in court. I can't understand the surprise and indignation my act seemed to engender, as it was perfectly right and natural that Will and I should die together, and nobody else's business. Do you know I believe that poor boy will yet kill himself, for last November when I in my grief and anger told his relations about our marriage he was so frightened, hurt, and angry that he wanted us both; to kill ourselves. I acquiesced gladly in this proposal to commit suicide, but he backed out in a day or two. I am glad now that Will is alive, and am glad that I am alive, even with the prospect of years of imprisonment before me, but which I will cheerfully endure for his sake. And yet for the last ten months his influence has so completely controlled me, both body and soul, that if I have done right he should have the credit for my good deeds, and if I have done wrong he should be blamed for the mischief, as I have not been myself at all, but a part of him, and happy to merge my individuality into his."
Olmstead