CLOSE

Cannibals of the Old West

Just the thought of cannibalism, or the eating of human flesh, induces shudders in the living. However, most people would agree that as strong as the cultural taboo is, cases in which people ingested corpses because it was the only available food in order to survive can be forgiven (if not forgotten). The most famous example in American history is the Donner Party, a group of snowbound pioneers who may have resorted to eating their deceased members in 1846-47. On the other hand, those who murder and then eat their victims are viewed with particular horror and contempt.   

Liver-Eating Johnson

John Garrison was born around 1824 in New Jersey. After a stint in the Navy, he headed out West and learned hunting, trapping, and the art of surviving in the mountains from an older mountain man named Old John Hatcher. Garrison changed his name to Johnston around this time, although the "t" was dropped in later accounts of his life. Johnson took a wife in trade from her father, a Flathead Indian. They built a cabin in the wilderness, but when Johnson returned from a solo hunting expedition in 1847, he found the cabin had been burned and his pregnant wife had been murdered by the Crow tribe.

Johnson then set out on an almost 20-year mission to kill Crows. Bodies were found all over the Rockies, scalped and missing their livers, which Johnson ate. This is attributed by some to the mountain custom of eating the fresh liver of hunted animals, but others say it was a direct insult to the Crow, who considered the liver a sacred part of the body, necessary to enter the afterlife. Later accounts put the number of Crow killed at about 300 over the years. This included a posse of twenty men sent to capture Johnson; none of them returned to the tribe. Once, Johnson was captured by Blackfoot hunters who planned to sell him to the Crow, but Johnson not only managed to escape, he killed his guard and chopped off his leg—which he used to sustain himself on his journey home. Contemporary news of Johnson's exploits earned him the nickname Liver-eating Johnson.

Johnson left the mountains long enough to serve in the Union Army in 1864 during the Civil War, then returned to the Rockies. He then made peace with the Crow, and never ate a human liver again. He served as a deputy sheriff in two Old West towns, and died at a veterans' home in 1900. If the first part of the story sounds familiar, it's because Johnson's story was the basis of the 1972 Robert Redford film Jeremiah Johnson

Alferd Packer

Alferd G. Packer earned the nickname The Colorado Cannibal in 1874. He set out from Provo, Utah, with several other men in that year to look for gold in Breckenridge, Colorado. In February, six men—Israel Swan, Shannon Wilson Bell, George Noon, James Humphrey, Frank Miller, and their guide, Packer—were seen at a Ute camp in Colorado. Two months later, Packer showed up alone at the Los Pinos Indian Agency. He said the others had gone foraging for food after they were stranded by a blizzard and Packer expected them to show up at any time. Oddly, Packer did not seem hungry, nor did he ask for food. More suspicions about his story arose later when he was seen spending money freely. Packer was arrested and taken in for questioning. The tale he told then was quite different: Packer said that while they were stranded, Israel Swan (the oldest of the group) died and the others ate his body. Humphrey died next, of natural causes. Then Miller died of an undisclosed accident. Each of the bodies were eaten by the survivors. Then, according to Packer, Shannon Bell shot Noon in order to eat him. Then Bell tried to kill Packer as well, so Packer killed Bell in self-defense. Not long after telling his story, Packer escaped from jail and wasn't seen again until 1883. Meanwhile, the remains of the other prospectors were found, showing evidence of violence. However, they were all lying near each other, and their feet were bound with strips of blanket.

In 1883 Packer was again arrested and again confessed to killing Bell in self-defense, this time admitting that he took money and a rifle from the dead men. Packer was charged with murdering Israel Swan, supposedly the first of the group to die. He was found guilty and sentenced to be hanged, but the conviction was reversed on appeal. Packer was tried again for manslaughter, convicted, and sentenced to 40 years.

In 1897, Packer wrote a third confession. In this account published in the Rocky Mountain News, Shannon Bell went insane from hunger, and killed all the prospectors except Packer, who was out foraging. On his return to the camp, Packer saw what had happened and killed Bell in self-defense. He then told how he took some human flesh from the fire, which Bell had prepared, and used it to sustain himself on the journey to Los PInos. Governor Charles S. Thomas granted Packer a parole in 1901, after serving 17 years. 

The spelling of "Alferd" may not have been his name at birth. It was tattooed on his arm, and there is speculation that he changed the spelling from the original "Alfred" later in life to match the misspelled tattoo.

Boone Helm

The name of Boone Helm is passed down to us with a legend more evil than the previous two cannibals. Helm was born in Kentucky around 1828 and raised in Missouri. By the time of the California Gold Rush in 1849, Helm already had a reputation as a troublemaker, and in fact, had already murdered at least one man, and had spent some time in an insane asylum. In California, he lived by murder and thievery instead of mining, as the miners had tempting pockets of gold. Heading into the wilderness of Oregon in 1853 with a gang of fellow outlaws, they were stranded by bad weather, and one by one they died. Helm and one other survivor, named Burton, tried to reach civilization, but Burton, no longer able to travel, shot himself. Helm carved him up and took parts of Burton to eat while he traveled. Rescued by geologist and explorer John W. Powell, Helm expressed no gratitude for the help, nor did he share any of the hundreds of dollars in his pocket. Powell got off easy, however, as Helm killed two other men who took him in during separate bad times later in his life.

Helm made it to Utah, where he boasted of his exploits and made some money as a hired killer. In Oregon in 1862, he shot and killed a man named Dutch Fred, who was unarmed and made no threat to Helm. It may have been a hired hit. Helm was run out of town, and subsequently had to endure another harsh winter in the wilderness, but he survived by killing a companion and eating him. Helm was eventually tried for the killing of Dutch Fred, but witnesses refused to appear or to testify, possibly because they were paid off by Helm's wealthy brother.

Helm then teamed up with the Henry Plummer Gang, which led to his arrest with several of the gang members. He was led to the gallows on January 14, 1864, in Virginia City, Montana, in front of a crowd of 6,000 people. As the other gang members were hanged, Helm kicked the box he was standing on away, hanging himself before the executioner could get to him. And that was his final murder.    

See also:
6 Horrifying Modern Cannibals
6 More Cannibal Killers
Everything You Wanted to Know About Cannibalism But Were Afraid to Ask

nextArticle.image_alt|e
Keystone Features / Stringer / Getty Images
arrow
This Just In
Police Recover Nearly 100 Artifacts Stolen From John Lennon’s Estate
Keystone Features / Stringer / Getty Images
Keystone Features / Stringer / Getty Images

A collection of artifacts stolen from John Lennon’s estate, including diaries, glasses, and handwritten music, has been recovered by German police, the Associated Press reports. After arresting the first suspect, law enforcement is now working to apprehend a second person of interest in the case.

The nearly 100 items went missing from the New York home of the late Beatles star’s widow Yoko Ono in 2006. Years later, German police were tipped off to their whereabouts when a bankruptcy administrator came across the haul in the storage facility of a Berlin auction house. The three leather-bound diaries that were recovered are dated 1975, 1979, and 1980. One entry refers to Lennon’s famous nude photo shoot with Annie Leibovitz, and another was written the morning of December 8, 1980, hours before he was shot and killed. In addition to the journals, police retrieved two pairs of his iconic glasses, a 1965 recording of a Beatles concert, a 1952 school book, contract documents for the copyright of the song “I’m the Greatest”, handwritten scores for "Woman" and "Just Like Starting Over”, and a cigarette case.

German authorities flew to New York to have Ono verify the items' authenticity. "She was very emotional and we noticed clearly how much these things mean to her,” prosecutor Susann Wettley told AP. When the objects will be returned to Ono is still unclear.

The first suspect, a 58-year-old German businessman from Turkey, was arrested Monday, November 21, following a raid of his house and vehicles. The second suspect is one of Ono's former chauffeurs who has a past conviction related to the theft. Police officers are hoping to extradite him from his current home in Turkey before moving forward with the case.

[h/t AP]

nextArticle.image_alt|e
Fox Photos/Getty Images
arrow
History
How a London Tragedy Led to the Creation of 911
Fox Photos/Getty Images
Fox Photos/Getty Images

In trouble? Pick up the phone and call 911. According to the National Emergency Number Association (NENA), 240 million 911 calls are made each year. But if it weren’t for a house fire and a group of angry Brits, the system might not exist today.

Though 911 is an American staple, its origins are in England. In 1935, there was no such thing as an emergency phone number, and phone calls were dependent on operators who connected people to exchanges or emergency services when necessary. England did have emergency fire call points, but they didn’t use telephone technology—instead, they relied on the telegraph, which was used to send a signal to fire departments from special boxes [PDF]. There were police call points, too, but they were generally unstandardized and inefficient, since police didn’t have a way to receive emergency calls while on their beats. Instead, officers would check in during their rounds at special police boxes, like the one you probably recognize from Doctor Who.

But all that changed after November 10, 1935, when a fire broke out at the home of a prominent London surgeon, Philip Franklin, at 27 Wimpole Street. As the blaze tore through the building, five women sleeping on the upper floors—Franklin’s wife and niece, as well as three servants—became trapped. A neighbor, Norman MacDonald, heard their screams and promptly picked up the phone to dial the operator. Nobody answered.

“It seemed entirely futile to continue holding on and listening to ringing tone, which awakened no response,” he later wrote. A neighbor went to a fire call point and firefighters soon arrived, but they were unable to save the five women.

27 Wimpole Street, London, as it looks today
27 Wimpole Street, London, as it looks today
Eden, Janine and Jim, Flickr // CC BY 2.0

The tragedy sparked a national inquiry—and outrage. Two years later, London unveiled a new service: the emergency number 999. Officials thought it would be best to choose a number that was easy to find by touch on a rotary dial, and rejected a number of other options, like 111, that might be triggered by equipment malfunctions. (It wasn’t unusual for lines rubbing together and other technical glitches to trigger a 111 call; 222 was already in use by a local exchange, while 000 would have just contacted the operator after the first zero.)

The new number wasn’t immediately embraced. Of over 1000 calls made the first week, nearly 7 percent were pranks. And some members of Parliament objected, saying it would be easier to just install an emergency button on phones instead.

A New York City police officer takes an emergency call from his car in the 1960s
A New York City police officer takes an emergency call from his car in the 1960s
John Pratt/Keystone Features/Getty Images

The United States had a similar system of police telephones and signal boxes, but like the UK it lacked the technology to quickly and effectively call authorities during emergencies. In the 1950s, the National Association of Fire Chiefs, inspired by the UK’s system, requested a national emergency number, and by 1967 the FTC was meeting with AT&T, the nation’s largest telephone company, to hash out a plan.

The first 911 call in the United States—a test call made from a mayor’s office—was made in Haleyville, Alabama in 1968 [PDF]. The numbers 911 reportedly made the grade because they weren’t in use for any existing phone exchange, and were catchy and easily remembered.

As the service rolled out nationwide, police and fire departments struggled to keep up with call volume. Despite the success of the program, New York police, in particular, reported being strained and having to hire more officers.

It took a long time to implement the system. Only 50 percent of the United States had 911 service as of 1987, according to NENA. Today, coverage is still not universal, although it’s close: 96 percent of the country is currently covered.

The evolution of telephone technology has brought new challenges, however: The FCC estimates that a full 70 percent of calls now come from cell phones—and given the mobility of mobile phones, that’s a challenge for dispatchers and phone companies. The 911 system was built for landlines, and cell phone GPS systems don’t always transmit data quickly or accurately. Plus, the proliferation of cell phones has led to a spike in accidental butt dials, which tie up the line and can prevent real emergencies from getting the attention they need. Still, we've come a long way from the days of sending telegraph messages inside boxes.

SECTIONS

arrow
LIVE SMARTER
More from mental floss studios