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The Woman on Her Sister's Grave

A young woman shoots herself at Lake View cemetery and gives her name as Mrs. Whitney. Two families then arrive at her hospital bed, and neither can agree on who she is.

The story, cleaned up

A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.

Mrs. Whitney, the young woman who attempted suicide on the grave of her sister, Ella Harlan, at Lake View cemetery Saturday evening, was getting along nicely at Providence hospital yesterday, and the attending physicians feel confident of her recovery. The wound, however, is painful, and every breath taken is an exertion. Dr. Morton said it would be a long time before she would be out of the hospital.

Her husband, who gives his name as J. W. Whitney, first heard of her attempt to end her life when he read the Post-Intelligencer yesterday morning. He immediately went to the hospital and on telling who he was gained admittance to the sick room. It is said that there was an affecting scene, in which the tears of the wife and husband mingled.

A short time after this Charles Hempel, proprietor of the Zerline saloon, and who, according to the reports last Saturday night, is the father of the would-be suicide, called at the hospital. He told the doorkeeper his name and said he understood that the woman who gave her name as Whitney was in reality Clara Hempel, his daughter. If it was true he desired to see her. The doorkeeper took the message to the patient and received a message to the effect that there must be some mistake, as her name was not Hempel. Mr. Hempel went away, and before long up came Mrs. Hempel and her three daughters, and were at the door of the sick room when Mr. Whitney came out and inquired what they desired. Mrs. Hempel said she wanted to see her daughter Clara. Mr. Whitney said he was sure something was wrong as to the identity of the patient and persuaded Mrs. Hempel that it was not her daughter, although she was not taken to the bedside of the patient so that the question could be settled definitely.

When called upon yesterday afternoon by a Post-Intelligencer reporter, Mr. Whitney said he desired that the matter be dropped, as it was nothing more than a family jar, in which the public had no interest. He said that his wife's maiden name was not Hempel, but Harlan, but would say nothing more about the family or their residence. Mrs. Whitney's little sister, however, was at the hospital in the afternoon, and it is said her mother was there also. Although Mr. Whitney would give no account of the causes of the shooting, and was surprised when informed that Mrs. Whitney had said that she wished she had shot "him" (it being uncertain whom she meant) before shooting herself, he practically assented to the theory that Mrs. Whitney had imagined she was not being treated right. He said there were no real reasons for this belief, and that there had never been serious quarrels.

It was learned in North Seattle last night that the Whitneys, or Mrs. Whitney, used to live on Cedar street and that Mrs. Whitney was a Seattle girl. Mr. Whitney says he is not in business and intimates that Seattle was his home once, but is not now.

Charles Hempel was asked if he thought it possible the wounded woman could be his daughter and said: "I don't think so. I have four daughters, three of whom are living at home. Clara, the eldest, was in New York city August 20, according to a letter we received from her, together with her picture. She stated that the theatrical troupe with which she is connected would start out in about fourteen days. If she has come to the city and been married she did so without the knowledge of her parents or sisters."

“The doorkeeper took the message to the patient and received a message to the effect that there must be some mistake, as her name was not Hempel.”

— Printed in The Seattle Post-Intelligencer (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1894
Then · 1894132 years apartNow · 2026

A woman's life, a family's private grief and a contested identity were all laid out in print within a day of a shooting, because a hospital doorkeeper and a reporter were the gatekeepers of who got to claim her. The reporting is scrupulous about one thing the modern reader notices immediately: nobody ever asked the patient herself, in front of witnesses, who she was.

The original page

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1894-09-10. Library of Congress, Chronicling America.

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About this story

From
The Seattle Post-Intelligencer (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, SEP 10, 1894, Page 2
Rights
Public domain
Place
47.63404, -122.31536 · placed automatically
The paper in the Library of Congress catalog ↗