CREMATED ON THE LAKE SHORE.
A STRANGE AND DRAMATIC MIDNIGHT SCENE NEAR CHICAGO.
CHICAGO, July 17. – A strange scene was enacted last night on the south shore of Lake Michigan. At the base of a great ridge of glistening white sand near the water’s edge there was lighted a funeral pyre and all that was mortal of Morris Allen Collins, President of the Dallas (Texas) Suicide Club, was by his own written request reduced to ashes. The Whitechapel Club of this city had charge of the strange ceremony. The torch was applied to the pile of pitch-soaked wood at 10:50 o’clock, and during the five hours that the body burned, impressive ceremonies were performed, consisting of music, recitations, and addresses.
Collins committed suicide July 8 by shooting himself through the head in his room on West Madison Street. He was forty years old, the son of the Rev. Samuel Collins, a Methodist minister, who settled in Texas early in the forties. Left an orphan early in life, Collins seems to have had a constant struggle with poverty. He came to Chicago practically penniless in 1886, and afterward became a writer for the Labor Enquirer, owned by Joseph R. Buchanan. On the register of the Whitechapel Club his signature appears: "M.A. Collins, President Suicide Club, Dallas, Texas."
Collins was seriously injured in October, 1890, by being knocked down by an engine on the Northwestern Road, and the injury probably affected his mind. It was followed by a mild epileptic attack, which afterward recurred with increasing intensity and frequency, until he became despondent and finally ended his life. It is said that he made two unsuccessful attempts to accomplish his purpose with morphine before he at last succeeded with a pistol. He left a letter to his closest friend, Honore Joseph Jaxon, directing that his body be turned over to the Whitechapel Club for incineration.
The scene of the cremation was by far the most desolate spot that could be found in the vicinity of Chicago. The building of the funeral pyre occupied eight men’s time during the greater portion of the day. When completed it stood 18 feet long, 8 feet wide, and 20 feet high. In addition to the members of the Whitechapel Club a considerable number of their friends from the city were present at the ceremonies, besides half a hundred country people attracted by curiosity.
The body of Collins, draped in a white robe, was taken from its casket and placed on top of the pile. The Whitechapelers lighted their torches and marched three times around the pile, singing a dirge. The fire was started. The club chaplain, W.C. Thompson, delivered a characteristic address, which was followed by other addresses by members. Mournfully the harp and zither played the sad notes of Ernst’s "Elegy," and a funeral sermon was delivered by Dwight Baldwin. At last came the ceremony of gathering the ashes. With trowels made and plated for the occasion, the few charred remains of the body were reverently placed in the temporary urn. Bearing this, the company returned to the city long after sunrise this morning.
Collins committed suicide July 8 by shooting himself through the head in his room on West Madison Street. He was forty years old, the son of the Rev. Samuel Collins, a Methodist minister, who settled in Texas early in the forties. Left an orphan early in life, Collins seems to have had a constant struggle with poverty. He came to Chicago practically penniless in 1886, and afterward became a writer for the Labor Enquirer, owned by Joseph R. Buchanan. On the register of the Whitechapel Club his signature appears: "M.A. Collins, President Suicide Club, Dallas, Texas."
Collins was seriously injured in October, 1890, by being knocked down by an engine on the Northwestern Road, and the injury probably affected his mind. It was followed by a mild epileptic attack, which afterward recurred with increasing intensity and frequency, until he became despondent and finally ended his life. It is said that he made two unsuccessful attempts to accomplish his purpose with morphine before he at last succeeded with a pistol. He left a letter to his closest friend, Honore Joseph Jaxon, directing that his body be turned over to the Whitechapel Club for incineration.
The scene of the cremation was by far the most desolate spot that could be found in the vicinity of Chicago. The building of the funeral pyre occupied eight men’s time during the greater portion of the day. When completed it stood 18 feet long, 8 feet wide, and 20 feet high. In addition to the members of the Whitechapel Club a considerable number of their friends from the city were present at the ceremonies, besides half a hundred country people attracted by curiosity.
The body of Collins, draped in a white robe, was taken from its casket and placed on top of the pile. The Whitechapelers lighted their torches and marched three times around the pile, singing a dirge. The fire was started. The club chaplain, W.C. Thompson, delivered a characteristic address, which was followed by other addresses by members. Mournfully the harp and zither played the sad notes of Ernst’s "Elegy," and a funeral sermon was delivered by Dwight Baldwin. At last came the ceremony of gathering the ashes. With trowels made and plated for the occasion, the few charred remains of the body were reverently placed in the temporary urn. Bearing this, the company returned to the city long after sunrise this morning.
Source: The New York Times, July 18, 1892
Jack The Ripper 