A Norwegian Teamster's Last Will: Despair, Disease, and a Sweetheart Left Behind

Fred Syvrud, a Norwegian teamster, blew out his brains at an early hour yesterday morning in room 30 of the Weaver House, 211 Commercial Street, without any apparent motive other than despondency over his sweetheart, far away in the home of his birth. Ragna Christiansen is her name, and to her he left the bulk of his property, according to the bequest contained in a note written in pen and ink evidently just before he placed the revolver to his head. It reads:

'I want to give what money there be left and real estate to Ragna Christiansen, Kailmeier gaden Street No. 7, Christiania, Norway, 1st floor. And the other things to my brother N. C. Syvrud, Hotel Douglas, 312 Tower Ave., West Superior, Wis. And to hold the property till better price can be had when times get better. The cause of my act is an incurable disease. — Fred Syvrud.'

Syvrud returned from a visit to his native land and the woman of his choice only last June. He went to the Weaver House on the 25th of that month, and from that day to his death had done no work. He was in easy circumstances, seemed contented, and to all appearances was ever on the best of terms with his sweetheart. The real property he leaves to her is considerable for a laboring man. He owned two lots near Lake Union, a lot in Shelton, and a homestead of 160 acres west of Shelton, the whole valued at $5,900. There is also a certificate of deposit for $200 to his credit in the First National Bank of this city.

The first person to receive an intimation of the suicide was William Fischer, a waiter, who occupied the room immediately adjoining Syvrud's on the west. About daylight yesterday morning Fischer says he heard a noise like the report of a pistol, but paid no attention to it. He sleeps late, and when he awoke yesterday afternoon he found N. J. Lekve, proprietor of the house, trying the door to Syvrud's room. That was about 2 o'clock, and was the second attempt Lekve had made to rouse his lodger. Fischer at once recollected hearing the shot, and springing to a banister fronting the window to the room, peered in over the blind.

A bloody sight met his gaze. Syvrud lay in a pool of blood, his head next to the door, a .32-caliber revolver near by, while crimson spots on the wall marked the places where drops of the man's life tide had been thrown by the force of the shot. Coroner Horton reached the room in a few minutes and found that Syvrud had placed the muzzle of the weapon near the right side of the head. The ball had broken the skull to pieces, making a ghastly wound, and had lodged in the skin on the other side of the head. Both eyes were blackened and the nostrils were of a deep crimson hue.

An examination of the remains disclosed nothing beyond a few trinkets and a purse containing $12 in silver.

It was evident after a search of the room that the dead man had debated in his own mind as to a choice of deaths. A gas jet hung down from the center of the ceiling, and to the knob used for turning on and extinguishing the light was attached a twine string, so arranged as to be managed from the bed. Evidently Syvrud had considered asphyxiation as a desirable means of ending life, but in the last moment took recourse to the revolver.

Charles Sorenson, a tailor employed by the Cameron Caledonia Dyeing and Cleaning Works, was well acquainted with the deceased, who was about 36 years old, and only the evening before had asked him to go out to Lake Washington. Syvrud answered, 'No; I'm not feeling well,' and walked away. The next news Sorenson heard of Syvrud was his death. Tuesday evening Syvrud had appeared to be in excellent health, but for the statement above noted. Sorenson says he complained repeatedly of catarrh, the ravages of which disease had discouraged him. Catarrh is the disease referred to in his note, as nothing of a more serious nature had afflicted him.

Nothing is known of N. C. Syvrud, the brother mentioned in the note as being at West Superior, Wis.

Physically Syvrud was a fine specimen of manhood. He was of medium height, about 165 or 170 pounds in weight, and had muscles developed like an athlete's. He was the last man one would suspect of taking his own life because of a physical ailment. What disposition will be made of the remains has not been decided. The coroner will not hold an inquest.