The Morthouse

Wish I knew the backstory here.

Shanghai Corpse Backlog, December 1946. Photograph by John Florea for LIFE. Source: LIFE Photo Archive, hosted by Google.

Leipzig Suicides. Photograph by Margaret Bourke-White, 1945. Source: LIFE Photo Archive, hosted by Google.

Leipzig City Council deputy mayor Dr. Lisso, member of Nazi party since 1932, lying dead while seated at his Town Hall desk, a suicide from cyanide, along with his wife and daughter, as American soldiers enter the city at the end of WWII.

Hughes Mortuary Neon Sign by Ballyhooligan on Flickr.

A nice 1940s winter family photograph in front of the neon sign of Hughes Mortuary

Retronaut: “A Ride of Death.”

Margaret Bourke-White, Leipzig Suicides, April 1945. Source: LIFE Photo Archive, hosted by Google.

Leipzig City Council deputy mayor Dr. Lisso, member of Nazi party since 1932, lying dead while seated at his Town Hall desk, a suicide from cyanide, along with his wife and daughter, as American soldiers enter the city at the end of WWII.

More than 7,000 suicides were reported in Berlin alone in 1945, though the actual number of suicides that year in the city is thought to be much greater. From Wikipedia:

When it became apparent that the Nazis were about to lose the war, Germany’s leaders (including Goebbels and Hitler) spoke publicly in favour of suicide as an option. Hitler declared on 30 August 1944 during a military briefing, “It’s only (the fraction) of a second. Then one is redeemed of everything and finds tranquility and eternal peace.” In contrast to Imperial Japan, the Nazis refused to surrender and continued to fight on, led by Hitler’s vision of only two possible outcomes: victory or destruction.

The Life article (from the May 14, 1945 issue) is available here.  See also: Suicide in Nazi Germany on Google Books. By Christian Goesche, Oxford University Press, 2009.

A young boy studying the human skull. Nina Leen, 1948. Source: LIFE Photo Archive, hosted by Google.

La Salle Hotel fire showing corpse spread on third floor hallway. Mark Kauffman, 1946. Source: LIFE Photo Archive, hosted by Google.

The La Salle Hotel was built in 1909 and was one of the grandest in Chicago for a time. It suffered a devastating fire in June 1946, which killed 61 people. From Wikipedia:

The fire began in the Silver Grill Cocktail Lounge on the lower floor on the La Salle Street side adjacent to the lobby before ascending stairwells and shafts. The fire started either in the walls or in the ceiling according to the Chicago Fire Department around 12:15 a.m. but they didn’t receive their first notification of the fire until 12:35 a.m. The fire quickly spread through the highly-varnished wood paneling in the lounge and the mezzanine balcony overlooking the lobby. While a significant number died from flames, a greater number of deaths were caused by suffocation from the thick, black smoke. Around 900 guests were able to leave the building but some 150 had to be rescued by the fire services and by heroic members of the public, including two sailors who were reported to have rescued 27 people between them. Two-thirds of hotel fire deaths in 1946 occurred in the La Salle and Winecoff (Atlanta) fires. The hotel fire was so devastating, it resulted in the Chicago city council enacting new hotel building codes and fire-fighting procedures, including the installation of automatic alarm systems and instructions of fire safety inside the hotel rooms.

As a Connecticut native, I’ve been fascinated by the story of the Great Circus Fire in Hartford for years. Oddities of American History has a great post summarizing the tragedy (check it out), but here’s where I’ll add my own (tenuous) personal take on the story.

My dad was born in Hartford in 1945, a year after the fire. He had two older sisters, and I vaguely remember either him or my older aunt mentioning that my grandmother was planning to take at least one of the girls to the circus that day, but that for some reason it didn’t happen. My dad and aunt are both gone now, so I wasn’t able to get any confirmation on this story. So I can’t really confidently be all: “omg wtf I might not be typing this right now had they gone.” 

My aunt’s widower, though, was a child living in Hartford in 1944, and he has an amazing memory. He clearly remembers standing in his backyard and seeing the smoke from the conflagration nearby, and the way that—whenever the circus came to town—the circus-workers would march all the elephants and other animals through the streets to get them from the train station to the circus site. And his stepmom was one of the nurses working the makeshift morgue at the armory pictured here.

Image: “Makeshift Morgue,” 1944. Source: Photographic Morgue of the New York Journal-American, Harry Ransom Center:

Awaiting viewing by victims’ family members, soldiers and sailors stand guard in the State Armory over cots containing the covered bodies of over 140 of the dead from the fire which destroyed the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus in Hartford, Connecticut.

Begraven van slachtoffers (Burial of victims), 1945. Source: Nationaal Archief (National Archives of the Netherlands) on Flickr.