The Indiana State sentinel., 1881-06-22
HUMORS OF THE MORGUE.
The JOvial Keeper Rivals Hamlet's
Graye-Digger.
Jests On CHASTITY subjects-An About the
NewYork Dead House.
New York Hera.d.l

tions of New York the one which has the
ghastliest associations. And yet it has Its
humors. too, and the keeper has as keen an
instinct of that side of his uninviting busi-
ness as ever did the grave-digger in "Ham-
let" 1t is not exactly a place for one OF
delicate nostrils and fond of eau de cologne
for peculiar odor fingers round it which
recalls but too vividly in spite of all carbol.
lied clay and carbolic clay-the fact that
this is the abode of the grim enemy Of man.
kind.
"And how do you stand this continuous
odor7" the keeper, who is fat, rosy. jolly
looking man, was asked yesterday.
"Oh, 1 get fat on it, 1 do" he replied
with grin and a complacent glance which
appeared to say, "Jast look at me and con.
vince yourself"
And surely, in surveying his comfortable
well-fed figure, there was nothing to indi-
cate that his occupation was one exception
ally distressing or disagreeable, and perhaps
1 it wasn't.
"You don't mind this work very much, Dc
you. in spite of the odor of the placer"
1
sometimes" he replied, with an unctuous
sniff as he pronounced the word "high," as
Though he were speaking of canvas-back
ducks instead of corpses; "but then we have
to grin and bear it, that's all"
There were forty one bodies in the morgue
yesterday, which, the keeper said, was not
an unusually great number. There are
about 5, 900 in the course of year. Nearly
all of these are contributed By the various
city neutrality-suspicious. Hospital, Charity
Hospital, Harris Island, etc. The keeper
said that nearly all the inmates OF the
morgue were recruited from the laboring
classes. OF these 5000 bodies only about
200 come unidentified, and of these 200 about
go per cent. or 120 are generally recognized,
while the others are buried in Potter's Field
without any recognition whatever. 1t will
thus be seen that the prevalent idea of
the morgue as place entirely for the un-
known dead rests more on the romance
of horror which has been woven round it
by sensational description than on fact, for
out of the 5000 bodies only about eighty go
unreccognized to their graves.
'And is this ratio of recognized bodies
among those that come here unidentified
the same every year?" the keeper was
asked.
'lt is strange to say, pretty much the
same every year." Showing that the num-
bers of deaths, births, suicides, murders, etc,
are not the only ones which seem to follow
regular, numerical rule.
1t is also an error to suppose that NEST of
the bodies are picked up in the rivers. Only
FIVE week, or $50 in all, belong to this
class, and about three week, or $50 in all,
are found casually in the streets. The great
feeder of the morgue is not disappointed
love, broken ambition, dire want, cruel neg
lect, but drunkenness. "Eight cases out of
ten," said the keeper, ''can be attributed to
that as the indirect cause" The most fire.
ouent diseases producing death in the
morgue cases are Bright's disease of the kid
neys and consumption.
EXPENSE OF THE MoRGUE.
1t appears from the figures obtained yes
terday that the disposition of these 10000
bodies which annually come to the morgue
cost the tax payers about $4,000, or 81
apiece.
"Well, amt that cheap enough2" the
keeper queried, after having reckoned up
the various items. Of these 5000 bodies,
about 1000 are claimed by the relatives and
friends of the deceased, and the rough pine
board coffins of the remaining 5000 average
about Sl.25, big and little-making So, $50
for this item alone. The cost of the coal
consumed on the boat which conveys the
bodies to Potter's Field is the next largest
item. Three tons per day are used, costing
about 81, or s. 200 per annum. The pilot
of the boat is paid 81 400 per annum, the
engineer $1,000, the fireman $3.50; the re-
pairing of the boat costs about 500, while
the keeper and his assistant of the morgue,
in spite of their powerful nostrils, are paid
together only 5000 per annum for all their
disagreeable work-at least the keeper
says.
"I'll bet you they give the smallest sal
ary in this institution (pointing at Bellevue
Hospital to the place that wants the smart
est man."
"And how long do you keep the bodies
awaiting identifcation2" the keeper was
asked.
alt just depends upon the weather." the
keeper replied breezily: "If the weather is
cool and nice"-that was said with great
gusto and evident enjoyment of the very
idea of coolness-'we may keep them a
long time, fifteen or twenty days. Nine
years ago we kept one body nearly all win.
ter. But if the weather is warm forty-eight
hours does the business. In such weather as
this body will last four or FIVE days before
| it becomes high favored as it were.''
"What sort of bodies stand the test long
est2"
"Well, the thin and emaciated ones-you
know they say its the lean horse that's good
for the long road The less blood there is
in the body the longer will it resist decay
Fat people get musty awfully quick. When
l see one of those fat, full-blooded bodies
come in know what 1 have to expect"
"Do you ever see women who remain
beautiful in death2"
"Yes, sometimes. There was woman
who died in the Madison Square Garden ac-
cident-when the root fell in-who was as
pretty as a picture for several days after she
was brought here. But generally speaking.
it seems to me. the best looking go first.
And then death makes funny changes. go
and see very pretty woman laid out, and
she looks perfectly horrible, and then very
ugly one is brought in and her thin cheeks
are puffed out, and she sometimes becomes
quite good-looking in her cofin-isn't that
queer2 But then," and here the keeper
heaved sigh and became evidently philoso-
phically inclined, decomposition comes
very much alike to the rich and the poor,
the beautiful and the ugly. the old and the
young-we all have to 60"
HOW 1T AFFECTS THE KEEPERS.
doesn't this occupation make you think
Of death2"
The Jolly keeper smiled in derision of the
2 Il L l-.al =