Catherine Ward Murders Her Children

Catherine Ward (center) and her children

 

Have you ever driven through a city and came across a vacant lot? That's a ridiculous question, you may say-- after all, most cities are filled with them; parking lots, gravel clearings, nondescript patches of nothingness between urban structures, some of which seem to serve no purpose whatsoever. But have you really ever stopped to wonder why nothing has been built on any given barren and lifeless spot? Sometimes, these grounds are bare because something so terrible-- so unspeakable-- happened there that it made future development impossible. One such vacant lot exists on Hamilton Avenue in Pittsburgh's East End. Among rows of decrepit, boarded-up houses, in a part of the city where sirens blare and gunshots ring out more frequently than church bells, is an asphalt lot where a house once stood, with the address of 7314 Hamilton Avenue. 

Nearly a century ago this was the home of the Ward family. In March of 1928, William Ward and his young wife, Catherine Wieland Ward, occupied the second floor of a duplex with their two children, three-year-old Billy and little Dorothy Mae, who was eight months old. William was employed as a newspaper engraver for the city's leading paper and it was only a matter of time before he and his wife could afford to purchase a home of their own. Once, the Wards had a been a happy family with all-American dreams of white picket fences and a garage to park their car. But everything changed one cold, dreary Thursday morning in March.

The Kiddies Are In The Bathroom

Mrs. Margaret Clifford, who lived on the first floor, was eating her breakfast when there was a knock at the door. It was her upstairs neighbor, 25-year-old Catherine Ward. She was covered in blood. "My children are dead!" cried Catherine, showing Mrs. Clifford her bleeding wrists. "They're better off," she said, once inside the kitchen, before falling unconscious on the floor. When the police arrived, they found a note in Mrs. Clifford's kitchen; written in pencil on the back of an envelope, the note had been addressed to Mrs. Clifford. The kiddies are in the bathroom, was all it said.

Within minutes, the duplex on Hamilton Avenue was buzzing with detectives, police and firemen. Catherine was unconscious but alive, and was rushed by ambulance to a nearby hospital. Meanwhile, firemen under the command of Captain Robert Watson of the 29th Engine Company, with the assistance of Dr. E.S. Warner, fought valiantly to revive Dorothy Mae, who lay in her crib, cold and blue. Armed with an oxygen tank borrowed from a mining supply company on Braddock Avenue, they labored for hours trying to bring the spark of life back to the strangled infant. Their effort was in vain.

By this time, members of the homicide squad had arrived on the scene. They found blood on the rim of the bathtub, showing that Catherine had slashed her wrists after holding little Billy under the water. His body was still in the partially-filled tub when they arrived. They learned that Catherine Ward had telephoned her doctor one day earlier.

At the Pittsburgh Hospital, doctors determined that Catherine had swallowed tablets of mercury bi-chloride, a chemical compound once commonly-prescribed for the treatment of syphilis before falling out of use due to its high toxicity. This, along with the great loss of blood she had suffered, left Catherine's own life hanging in the balance. William kept a vigil at her bedside, leaving the hospital only to make funeral arrangements for his children. Catherine, he said, was a devoted a mother and a perfect housekeeper. He couldn't understand how she could commit such a terrible crime, but he wasn't about to give up on her; the two most important people in his life had been torn away from him in a horrible instant, and Catherine was all he had left. Though not a particularly religious man, he remained in constant prayer, stopping only to direct his anger at reporters when they informed him that, if Catherine was to recover, she could face the electric chair for her actions. Police had already booked her on homicide charges-- news which surprised the young husband.

 

Mercury bichloride, used to treat syphilis during the 19th and early 20th centuries

 

"The police! You don't think they would hold her, do you?" asked William from the hospital. "She didn't know what she was doing. Should couldn't have harmed a hair on their heads id she had known. No mother ever loved her little ones more than Catherine. There never was a more devoted mother." William explained that his wife hadn't been well since the birth of their daughter, and that Billy had never enjoyed good health. The strain was simply too great for Catherine. "It was just too much for her," he said. "Her nerves must have snapped."

On March 9, Catherine's condition took a turn for the worse, when she awakened to discover what she had done to Billy and Dorothy Mae. She remained hospitalized until April 22. The following day, she was arrested and charged with murder. The inquest, under Coroner W.J. McGregor, took place on April 26.

On May 4, Judge Joseph Swearingen handed down a ruling committing Catherine Ward to the Dixmont Insane Asylum after she was formally declared insane by a lunacy commission spearheaded by Dr. C.C. Wholley and Dr. C.H. Henninger. According to the doctors' report, Catherine suffered from hallucinations, heard voices in her head, and posed a threat to herself and others. Little hope was held for her recovery.

The Sad Fate of Catherine Ward (And The Judicial System)

Catherine was released from Dixmont in June 18, 1930, after a jury of 12 women found her "not guilty by reason of insanity" in the deaths of her children. The verdict was directed by Judge M. Ward Fleming of Centre County, who was filling in on the bench. Interestingly, this was part of the plan designed by the physicians at Dixmont. Once they determined that Catherine was "mentally sound", they arranged to have a double murder charge brought against her, purely so that she could be acquitted and return to society. 

To ensure the success of this plan, Assistant District Attorney John Maggerty and defense attorney A.M. Oliver took turns using their peremptory challenges to exclude men from the jury pool. Under Pennsylvania law, in cases of a capital felony in which only one defendant stands trial, the Commonwealth and the defense are permitted 20 peremptory challenges apiece. Each side can use a peremptory challenge to dismiss any potential juror for any reason (or no reason) whatsoever.  
In other words, it was a "show" trial-- and one with deadly consequences.

Catherine and William eventually moved to a new home at 951 Woodbourne Avenue in Brookline. By this time, she had changed the spelling of her name to Kathryn. This is undoubtedly the same woman, as records show that her brother was Walter Wieland of Dorsey, Maryland.

On the night of Wednesday, November 12, 1958, William returned home from work a shortly before ten o'clock in the evening and found his wife's body hanging from a joist in the basement. She was 55 years old at the time of her suicide. As for poor William, whose entire family had gone to the grave under tragic circumstances, he was never able to recover from the devastation. The triple tragedies took their toll and his health began to decline rapidly. He died just four years later (the cause of his death was never made public). Presumably, the entire family is buried at Allegheny Cemetery, where the children were laid to rest in 1928.

While some people may argue that pleading temporary insanity is a dirty trick which allows women to dodge retribution for their criminal conduct, the case of Catherine Ward illustrates that a mother's mind really can snap, just as her husband had claimed from the beginning. Despite the determination made by the staff at Dixmont, Catherine was not mentally fit to return to society, and had the criminal courts of Pennsylvania not failed her by making a mockery of the judicial system and giving her, essentially, a "get-out-of-the-asylum-free" card, there's a very good chance that both Catherine and William might have lived to a ripe old age. 

 

Was Syphilis To Blame? 

Based on Catherine's symptoms and erratic behavior, and the mercury bichloride in her apartment, it's possible that she may have suffered from late meningovascular or congenital syphilis, a bacterial infection in which the symptoms may not develop for several years after the initial infection. Advanced stages of this disease are often characterized by changes in personality, delusions, psychosis and depression-- all symptoms observed in Catherine Ward.

Another clue is Catherine's distinctive "saddle nose", which is a deformity commonly associated with syphilis, and results from lesions and ulcers attacking the cartilage. Considering that Catherine's brother, Walter, died at the age of 53, it's possible that a congenital illness was responsible for shortening their lives; after all, syphilis has been called the "great imitator" because it produces a wide range of symptoms in different parts of the body and is often misdiagnosed, or never diagnosed at all. Congenital syphilis might also explain little Billy's chronic health problems.  

Catherine (center), and two examples of syphilitic saddle nose deformity

 

Although the syphilis theory has never been brought up, this theory provides the most believable explanation for Catherine's actions and for the presence of mercury bichloride in her home. While mercury bichloride was once used in photography and art, it is doubtful that William, a newspaper engraver, ever came in contact with it; by the 1920s, safter chemicals were already in use. Besides, mercury bichloride used for this purpose would have come in a powdered form, and multiple reports show that Catherine had ingested pills.

Perhaps Catherine's first attempt at suicide in 1928 had been inspired by the high-profile case of Madge Oberholzer, a kidnapped woman from Indiana who committed suicide in 1925 after convincing her captors to take her to a drug store, where she bought mercury bichloride tablets. By the time Catherine's self-strangulation in 1958, mercuric chloride was no longer used in medicine.

 

Sources:

Pittsburgh Press, March 8, 1928.
Indiana Gazette, March 9, 1928.
Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph, March 9, 1928.
Pittsburgh Press, April 23, 1928.
Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph, May 4, 1928.
Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph, June 18, 1930.
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Nov. 13, 1958.