Thirty Grains of Morphine and a Baker’s Plea to Be Let Go

Christian F. Gutheil, proprietor of a bakery on Second Street, between Madison and Spring, is at Providence Hospital in a critical condition from an overdose of morphine, taken with suicidal intent, as a result of a long spree. He still insists that he ought to be allowed to take his own life.

Gutheil has lived in the city since last August, when he came here from Alaska. He is a very large man, unmarried. His brother Louis Gutheil keeps a bakery at 208 South Second Street. For the last few days Christian F. Gutheil drank heavily and was on a protracted spree. Then he came to the conclusion life was not worth living, and went to his room at 1117 Fifth Street with the express purpose of taking enough morphine to make sure of death. As near as can be figured out from his story, he took fifteen grains Tuesday night and fifteen more the night before last. The first dose made him very sick, but did not accomplish the work in any sense of the word. He told his landlady Wednesday afternoon about being sick and wanting to die. She went for his brother Louis, who, according to her story, sent back word that he did not care what happened. It appears that after this the sick man took some more poison and was found in a critical condition yesterday morning. Dr. Palmer was hastily summoned, and without further delay Gutheil was taken over to Providence Hospital. The doctor and his assistants worked over him for two or three hours before they dared give him any rest. All through the afternoon one of the nurses stayed in the room to keep Gutheil awake.

At police headquarters the records show that Louis Gutheil was taken to Providence Hospital, the cause being simply “sickness.” This was a mistake in names, but when a reporter went to Gutheil’s bakery and asked him to straighten out the matter of names, he would not talk to a reporter.

At the hospital, however, the patient talked willingly, and gave his name as Christian P. Gutheil, and said his brother’s name was Louis. “We don’t get along well together,” he continued, “but he has not got anything to do with making me try to take my life. All there is to it, I got tired of living, and thought that thirty grains of morphine ought to do the work. I am sorry it did not. What is the use of trying to keep me alive when I want to die? Yes, I own the little bakery on Second Street, between Madison and Spring. There is only one debt on it, and that is $30 rent. I made no provision as to who should get it. I was satisfied to let the first one on deck have it.”

Dr. Palmer said last evening that his patient’s condition was serious, but refused to give any more particulars.

At the boarding house on Fifth Street where Gutheil lived it was learned that he said one reason for trying to kill himself was his immense size.