Exploring the many branches of our family tree (another retirement project) is fascinating. Some of those limbs, though, are rather gnarly.

Let’s get right to it:

There was a murder in Ferdinand back in 1909.

Gary‘s great-grandfather on his mom’s side, Henry Schum, was killed while trying to break up a drunken brawl.

Note: I’m hoping enough time has passed that I won’t offend anyone by mentioning the coinciding murder of the English language. Coverage of the patriarch’s death unfurled over the months with continuous typos, misspellings, and questionable journalistic practices.

Exhibit A:

Thanks to Ancestry.com and the affiliated Newspapers.com, researching this horrific bit of family history was simple.

Yet complicated.

It seems much of the reporting back then was, well, sort of like we sometimes see today. Some publications were not particularly accurate with spelling … or the facts. Others didn’t hesitate to sprinkle in a heavy measure of opinion.

For example, a few articles say the poor man was knifed. Most, though, state Henry Schum (pronounced: shoom) was beaten with a piece of “stove wood.”

And that’s just the beginning. During the trial, a reporter or editor changed Henry’s name to Charles; that, of course, was the article that ran in many newspapers across three states.

Here is the story of that horrible night:

Henry Schum was attacked in the town of Ferdinand, Indiana, on Saturday evening, February 6, 1909. He passed away the next morning.

Some articles name him as a highly-respected, elderly farmer (he was 65). Others call him a wealthy coal-mine owner. In the 1900 Federal Census, he names his occupation as “farmer,” so we’ll go with that. (A subsequent check with Gary confirms Henry Schum also mined coal on his property. Gary simply laughs at the word “wealthy,” though. Twas a hardscrabble life.)

Henry ventured into town that Saturday afternoon to pick up some “necessaries for the family.” Tragically, by the time he made it home he was unconscious and just hours away from death.

Some reports say he dropped by a tavern on the south side of town to pay two of his miners, Frank Drach and Frank Gehlhausen, their wages. Others simply state he stopped there because he heard a ruckus.

All agree that the two Franks, neither yet 20 years of age, had consumed their fill of the drink and were outside, engaged in a physical altercation.

The tavern was called Barth’s Saloon. Sadly, owner Peter Barth had died in 1903, so now Joe Barth owned the place. Eventually, the Barths rented and then sold the property to the American Legion Post 124.

I’m home alone right now, but upon learning the above detail, I shouted out loud: “Good God, Gary – our wedding reception was on the very spot of the Henry Schum murder!”

Sorry, great-grandpa. No disrespect intended.

When Henry came upon the escalating quarrel behind Barth’s, he recognized his neighbor, Frank Senninger, who was trying to calm the situation. Henry referred to the drunken brawlers as “those lousy boys.”

Apparently the other Franks heard the comment and savagely attacked Henry, who was more than three times their age. Although a newspaper reported knives were used, it seems more likely, given the injuries, that the articles mentioning “stove-wood” as the weapon were accurate.

At first Henry refused medical treatment. Poor guy just wanted to go home.

But eventually he agreed to cross the street and pay a visit to Dr. V. Knapp, who “sewed and bandaged the wound of the head.”

It was just past 7pm. Henry Schum lit his pipe and headed for home.

A little after 10pm, he was discovered – unconscious – in a ditch. John Remke happened upon Henry and got him into the closest house – John Schmitt’s home – “where he was wrapped in comforts and then taken home.”

Henry’s skull was fractured.

He never regained consciousness.

Sadly, Henry Schum succumbed to his injuries at 7 o’clock the next morning. Sunday morning.

His funeral was the next day. May he forever rest in peace.

Police arrested Frank Drach and Frank Gehlhausen and charged them with murder. Frank Drach Sr., it turns out, was Ferdinand’s town marshal. He resigned temporarily.

Ultimately, there was a change of venue. On June 21, 1909, the day the murder trial was to begin in Boonville, the defendants pleaded guilty to the reduced charge of manslaughter. They were shipped off to the reformatory in Jeffersonville.

Their sentence was two to 21 years.

A reporter for The Herald in Jasper couldn’t resist a bit of editorializing: The young men got off luckily, as the case against them was a strong one. Their reputations for peace and quietude was not the best, and they were accused of being ever ready for a brawl. Maybe they will find time for reflections at the reformatory and it is hoped they will come out of that institution reformed young men.

I searched online for the rest of the murderers’ stories, but didn’t come across any articles about them being released from prison. Let’s hope they dried out and straightened up their lives.

The Herald further editorialized: The town of Ferdinand is somewhat wrought up over the tragedy and the good people there are in favor of stopping rowdyism that has existed. The cost of trying these young men will amount to more than the liquor licenses of that town for a long time to come.

Meanwhile, Henry’s descendants are legion. Thanks to some of Gary’s cousins, there’s a huge reunion every few years as generation upon generation get together to celebrate family.

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