Caustic Candy: I Didn’t Do It, But If I Did It….

Until this point in Viola Horlocker’s trial, her defense team worked to establish doubt as to whether Viola actually entered the building where Anna and Charles Morey lived. Later, they’d call a witness, who’d known Viola for years, lived in the same hallway as the Morey’s, was home all day — who swore he never saw Viola on April 10, 1899. While all these details add up, Viola’s lawyers had yet to really address the heart of Viola’s insanity plea.

Until the prosecution called Charles Morey to the stand.

Faster than a fox falls on a fluffy-tailed rabbit, Viola’s defense team tipped their hand, showing the jury who they regarded as the real villain of the piece. 

Badgering and lambasting Charles at every turn, they relentlessly grilled him about the exact nature of his relationship with Viola: Charging him with ‘making love to an innocent young woman.’ Accusing him of encouraging Viola’s infatuation through the sheer volume of time spent together, confidences shared, and promises of marriage made. Blaming him for unhinging Viola’s mind — by forcing her to watch her rose-tinted dreams die when he unexpectedly severed all ties with her. Could anyone fault Viola for cracking under the pressure of watching the man she ‘loved not wisely, but too well’ carry on with his wife from afar, as if she never existed? 

(BTW: Apparently, Viola’s lawyer’s cross-examination of Charles was so merciless that when Charles left the stand, he said something very rude while passing by the defense counsel’s table. Unwilling to let the insult roll like so much water off a duck’s back, said lawyer immediately punched Charles in the nose. The next day, the bailiffs, who suspected the dust hadn’t quite settled from the previous day’s kerfuffle, kept a weather eye on the two men. The surveillance proved fortuitous as they foiled the pair of hotheads from drawing pistols and shooting one another in the middle of the courtroom.)

Viola herself took the stand sometime later in her own defense. Though, betwixt hiding her face in her hands, copious weeping, and periodic bouts of fainting, she didn’t provide much substance to aid her case….However….Considering the number of trials where the purported perpetrator put their own head in the noose by trying to defend themselves on the stand — you could call presenting a generally pathetic and remorseful figure a result.

Fortunately, her legal team had an ace up their sleeve.

Do you recall the friends who, from the very start, said Viola must’ve been out of her right mind if she tried to poison Anna Morey? Well, they’d stuck to their conviction and with her. Not only did they attend Viola’s trial en masse, much to Judge Adams’ consternation (who didn’t think it proper). At one point during the proceedings, they rained kisses all over Viola’s head to show their support. 

One of Viola’s particular friends, Miss Eva Stuart, took this show to the next level by providing information that Viola couldn’t or wouldn’t bring herself to say. 

In what the newspapers deemed a well-rehearsed testimony, Miss Eva Stuart divulged several pertinent secrets and private conversations she and Viola shared. Opening with the revelation that initially Viola hadn’t viewed Charles Morey as anything other than her boss….Until one afternoon in the office, he confided in her how sad and lonely he was and wondered if she would be his friend. 

(BTW: This was well before Anna left town for three months in the summer of 1898.)

However, Viola didn’t fall in love with Charles until the afternoon he hypnotized her headache away. While in the ‘altered’ state, Viola revealed she’d felt ‘a little door in her heart spring open and feelings she’d never felt for another friend poured out.’ Deepening their bond, Charles confided in Viola about his marital troubles whilst listening to her matriarchal woes. He came over to her house and listened to her sing. He started asking her to stay late after everyone else at work left — so he could give her a passionate kiss goodbye. Finally, while his wife was out of town, Charles invited Viola to his home. Just the two of them. Alone.

And she went.

At this point, Viola’s defense really started picking up steam. 

Her lawyers then called an array of witnesses who testified to Viola’s peculiar behavior in the months leading up to the poisoning of Anna Morey & friends. Behavior, which included: mood swings, crying jags, melancholy, depressed spirits, headaches, peculiar conduct, unhappiness, and general distress. On one occasion, Viola failed to recognize a friend whom she’d known for the better part of fifteen years. One of the Tibbets brothers testified that more often than not, after the summer of 1898, he’d find Viola on the office floor in a dead faint. 

Next, Viola’s elder sister, Luella, took the stand. First, disclosing what many already knew, that as children, they’d often witnessed the savage fights between their mother and George Horlocker. Bouts, which led to Viola’s nervous disposition as a child. However, the coup de grace of her testimony was the confession of a dark family secret: Just before Viola’s birth, their mother had tried to kill herself.

Next came the medical experts from Oak Lawn Sanatorium. Dr. Cromwell, the superintendent of said sanatorium, testified that Viola had indeed been insane on April 10th. Gradually, between August 1898 and April 1899, the irresistible impulse to poison Anna Morey seized Viola. The last straw, which snapped what little reason Viola still possessed, came that day in the dining room of the Boswick Hotel. When Charles called Anna ‘darling’ — a term of affection he’d never applied to her. 

Dr. Cromwell and his colleagues then explained that when Viola first entered the sanatorium, she’d been subject to extreme attacks of hysteria and nervousness. However, thanks to their care and treatments, Viola was well on the road to recovering her reason.

Dr. Cromwell also went on to say, I’m paraphrasing the pure hokum doctors often spouted about women during this era, that the true root of Viola’s crazy lay in her lady bits, which puberty magnified, and Charles’s wicked conduct together with his abrupt rejection exacerbated. The cumulative effect of all these factors turned Viola into a degenerate.

It took less than an hour for the jury to find Viola ‘not guilty by reason of insanity.’

The question is, was she? Was Viola really insane at the time she poisoned Anna Morey? He was her boss, and if what Viola’s friend Eva said is true, it sounds like Charles groomed her. Thereby making his sudden break-up all the more callous and cruel. And if, in the heat of the moment, she set his desk ablaze, stabbed him with a letter opener, or poisoned his favorite bottle of bourbon — I’d get it.

However, Viola waited just shy of eight months before acting, and she had that box of candied cherries and walnuts prepared before stepping into that hotel dining room on April 10, 1899. Making me wonder if coincidence or premeditation fueled Viola’s choice to dine at the same establishment on the same afternoon as Charles and Anna’s standing lunch date…..But as the papers noted from the beginning, Viola’s reputation, popularity, and well known family drama made a conviction highly unlikely — especially after her lawyers gave the jury an alternate person to blame.

In any case, after the reading of the verdict, Viola stood up, gave one long piercing shriek, and fainted. Upon being revived by her sister Luella, both women thanked the jury profusely. When the press asked Viola about her next life steps, she told them she planned to return to Oak Lawn Sanitarium for a few months before traveling to New York City to stay with Luella and her husband — for a fresh start.

And it seems she did. 

In the few lines in which her name appeared in the papers over the years after her acquittal, Viola Horlocker did indeed travel to New York. Where, for a few years at least, she performed music professionally. She married a man with the surname of Adams, moved to Tujunga, California, and was alive, if not well, as of February 16, 1939. 

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2023

Caustic Candy: The Alleged Crimes of Viola Horlocker

Continuing on our theme of unexpected deliveries, tainted sweets, and copycats of Cordelia Botkin (who murdered two women by sending poisoned chocolates through the mail), we are going to put St. Louis (Mo.), Florence McVean, and her sister Mary McGraw in our review mirrors and travel roughly five-hundred-and-twenty-six miles northwest to Hastings, Nebraska to meet Viola Horlocker.

Known as Ollie, though I will continue to refer to her as Viola for constancy’s sake, she was the second oldest of four sisters. By the spring of 1898, all save Viola had left home. The oldest, Luella, became a highly regarded painter of porcelain china. Lita went on to become an accomplished artist in the field of flower painting and arranging. Whilst Zora made a name for herself as a professional singer. Like her sisters, Viola also possessed a musical streak, which she showed to full advantage by singing and arranging music for the church’s choir. Though not considered a beauty, Hasting’s society did find Viola attractive, fashionable, and “well above mediocrity in every way”. 

However, things weren’t as rosy as they appeared at first blush.

Viola’s father, George, not only made and lost a vast fortune, he also abandoned his entire family when Viola was a teenager. An event that surprised no one in the community, as next-door neighbors were often treated to the auditory splendor of knock-down-drag-out fights between the Mr. and Mrs. of the Horlocker household. (At one point, during one of these vicious rows, said neighbors felt the need to intervene. Upon locating the source of the commotion, they found Mrs. Horlocker beating George with a pot about the head and shoulders in the kitchen. Noting the number of dents in the cookware, neighbors surmised this wasn’t the first time something along these lines happened.) After her husband’s hasty exit stage left, Mrs. Horlocker turned her capricious temper, bitter disposition, and sour tongue on her daughters. Driving each and every one to seek out respectable employment in cities hundreds of miles away from their mother.

Save Viola. 

Viola stayed behind to cope with a maternal figure, who was not mellowing with age, alone. Again, this turn of events wasn’t wholly unexpected. Viola’s sense of duty to her family found her stepping up to provide for her mother and two younger sisters (as Luella was already out of the house and state by this point) after their father departed. Educating herself in the law, Viola worked as the deputy county clerk for four years until she accepted a position at Tibbets Bros. & Morey. Where her work was considered exemplary. (There is a bit of discrepancy regarding her exact role in the firm. The newspapers labeled her a stenographer. However, during the trial, the Tibbets brothers said Viola drew up flawless legal documents for them….Which sounds more involved than what a stenographer normally does? I’m not really sure. Though, it wouldn’t be the first time newspapers of this era chose a dumbed down a woman’s job title to avoid confusing their readers.)

Enter Charles F. Morey. 

Prior to joining the prestigious firm as a junior partner, he’d held the office of City Attorney for years. Now, it’s unclear if Viola and Charles knew each other before joining the same firm, but either way, they soon became acquainted — as Viola was assigned to assist him. By the time spring rolled around in 1898, the two were friendly enough that Charles introduced Viola to his wife and tried to encourage a friendship between the two women. He also invited Viola to join his cycling club….Naturally, Charles accompanied Viola home after each meeting or tour — to make sure she arrived safely. 

Fast forward a few months to the summer of 1898: Anna, Charels’s wife, left Hastings for a few months.  

Almost immediately, Charles and Viola started spending ever increasing amounts of time together. They’d go for long, winding rides in the country, where Charles confided in Viola about his work, career aims, and struggles at home. Viola, in turn, vented to Charles about her troubled home life and mercurial mother. Charles then began asking Viola to stay on after everyone else in the office left for the day, for more long talks, which more often than not spilled over into dinner at one restaurant or another. If Viola felt she couldn’t leave her mother alone on a particular evening, Charles would accompany her home, and they’d sit out on her porch for hours talking.

After three months of this constant association, the local newspaper’s gossip column weighed in on what the Hasting’s busybodies had already started whispering about: What would Anna say if she knew her husband was spending such copious amounts of time with his young female law clerk? As they say: While the cat’s away, the mice will play. Though the paper didn’t print their names, everyone in Hastings knew (or was subsequently informed of) who the couple in question was. This potentially embarrassing situation prompted one of the Tibbets brothers to pull Morey aside and advise him to cool it with Viola. 

Counsel Charles willingly complied with as his wife was due home in days.

To say Viola took Charles’s news badly would be an understatement. However, she soon learned no amount of protestation or pleading would alter Charles’s mind. He even went so far as to have Viola reassigned to one of the Tibbets, further limiting Viola’s opportunities to spend time with him. And whilst her work didn’t suffer, after Charles dropped her like a hot stone, her manner did. Over the subsequent fall and winter months, Viola’s demeanor turned increasingly irritable, nervous, and depressed….

Until everything came to a head on April 10, 1899. 

According to the newspapers, the bare bones of the “incident” went something like this: Whilst Charles occupied his days with lawyering. His wife Anna added to the household coffers by teaching art, drawing, and painting to the well-to-do women (and their daughters) of Hastings. And by all accounts, both Anna and her classes were remarkably popular. Due to the duo’s demanding professional calendars, Charles and Anna chose to consciously carve out time to spend together.

One such hewn event was a standing Monday lunch date at the Boswick Hotel.

On this particular April day, after finishing their meal and parting ways until quitting time, Anna rushed home to prepare for a class. When she arrived at their apartment’s door, Anna found a box of candy sitting on the mat. The attached card identified the gift giver as one of Anna’s good friends, Miss Kirby. Still needing to zoom, Anna Morey set the box aside and started prepping her studio for the impending art class. A short while later, with everything sorted and five out of six students on hand, Anna opened the box of homemade candy. Passing the sugared walnuts and cherries around, the group partook while they waited for the last class member.

Who, in an odd case of serendipity, just happened to be Miss Kirby.

Upon Anna’s thanks for the unexpected box of sweets, Miss Kirby denied making or sending Anna the candy. Unsurprisingly, this contradiction frightened everyone: The notorious trial of Cordelia Botkin had only wrapped up five months prior and copycat crimes, like Florence McVean’s, had proliferated on newspaper’s front pages across the country ever since.

Compounding this disquiet, everyone who’d nibbled on a piece or two or three — started feeling queasy. Uncertain whether the power of suggestion or something more diabolical was causing their gastric distress, the group of budding artists sent for a doctor….Who, after arriving, rapidly determined he’d a genuine case of poisoning on his hands. After treating/stabilizing the group of women, the doctor sent the remaining candied fruit and nuts out for testing.

The very first piece tested came back as containing four grains of arsenic. 

Now, if I understand how this largely defunct unit of measurement works (please correct me, nicely, if I’m wrong), one grain equals just a smidge under 65mg. Experts consider a lethal dose of arsenic between 100-300mg (depending on things like body mass, tolerance, and overall health). So if each piece of the tainted candy contained four grains or about 258mg of arsenic…..That sextet of women should thank the gods above and below for escaping the afternoon of April 10th with their lives. Anna Morey, in particular, should light a candle. The only reason the tainted sweets didn’t kill her outright was that she threw up a large measure of the arsenic she’d eaten. As it was, Anna was bed-bound for weeks afterward as the toxic substance worked its way out of her system — her husband continuously by her side.

News of Anna’s mysterious poisoning spread like wildfire through Hastings.

Two days after the ‘incident’ Viola, who’d continued to work diligently at the firm whilst gossiping with everyone else over nearly fatal turn of events, ran into a family friend at the drugstore. Well acquainted with the gossipworthy happenings betwixt Charles and Viola the summer before Dr. Cook voiced his growing suspicion: “Ollie, how could you do this?”* To say this brought their conversation to an abrupt end is an understatment, as Viola apparently fainted then staggered away from the good doctor as fast as humanly possible after regaining her senses….Then, later that same evening, she and her mother boarded an eastbound Burlington Train and left town.

Because running away after someone accuses you of attempted murder ALWAYS makes you appear innocent.

*(There’s a variant of this story where one of the Tibbets Brothers accuses Viola. However, the majority of the newspapers printed the Dr. Cook version.) 

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2023

Caustic Candy: How NutraSweet Got Me Into Hot Water

Back in 1984, NutraSweet introduced themselves to the world via a gumball campaign, where the company sent out a handful of spherical sweets to prove to the public it “tasted just as good as sugar”. Knowing they couldn’t send out the chewing gum and expect people to eat it — they preceded the mass mailing with an ad campaign letting everyone know what their mailers and gumballs looked like. Catching a couple of the commercials, I shrugged and returned to reading my Nancy Drews.

We never got anything that interesting in the mail.

Fast forward a few weeks to the day I opened our mailbox and spotted a familiar envelope lying inside — my heart skipped a beat. Lacking the means to buy candy on my own, as I was still in grade school at the time, I tore that envelope open in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Popping the bright red gumball in my mouth, I began happily chewing away. Since checking the mail doesn’t generally include snacks, my mom immediately spotted my repetitive mastication when I walked back into the house and handed her the stack of correspondence. After a brief inquisition, in which my television defense was found wanting, the remaining gumballs were confiscated, and the piece I was happily snapping was consigned to the trash………….and my mom was MAD. 

Yes, capital letters are necessary.

As a kid, I thought her reaction was blown way out of proportion. The tv commercial showed the envelope, the envelope we received was a match, and the sleeve of gumballs was unopened (I did possess some common sense) — so what’s the big deal? And let me tell you, that’s the exact wrong thing to say under your breath around an already irate mom. (I swear that woman possesses the hearing of a bat.) It wasn’t until recently, when I started reading and writing about true crime, that I finally understood the root of my mom’s eruption of MAD.

In point of fact, my mom wasn’t mad — she was scared.

What sparked her poorly expressed fear? Less than two years before the artificial sweetener’s spectacular introduction to American consumers, seven people died in Chicago via cyanide polluted pain pills. The first victim in the 1982 Chicago Tylenol Murders, which remain unsolved to this day, was only a couple of years older than myself when those gumballs landed in our letterbox. My mom, an avid mystery and true-crime reader (proving I come by my reading inclinations naturally), followed the case and knew of the rash of copycat killings it inspired — hence her fright at finding me chewing gum of “uncertain” origins. (BTW — I called her up and apologized a couple weeks ago for this long ago eye rolling transgression — she laughed and accepted it.)

Now what exactly does this have to do with the price of shortbread in Scotland?

Over the past few months, I’ve unconsciously gravitated towards books that, in one way or another, feature chocolates and mail. Sometimes together, sometimes separate, these two elements kept creeping into the narrative…..A box of chocolates laced with cocaine appears in Peril At End House (1932). In the short story The Chocolate Box (1923), Poirot figures out the murder weapon was a singe trinitrine (aka nitroglycerine) stuffed chocolate. Author Anthony Berkley injected nitrobenzene into the soft centers of an entire box of chocolates, sent thru the mail to an unwitting puppet, to complete the deed in The Poisoned Chocolate Case (1929). 

Following the heels of Berkley’s aforementioned mystery, I listened to Poisoner’s Cabinet’s (a brilliant podcast) take on the case of Christiana Edmunds (year of crimes: 1870 -1871). The Chocolate Cream Killer, as Christiana was later known, laced her favorite chocolate coated confections with strychnine, then left bags of the contaminated sweets all over Brighton in the hopes someone would eat a piece of uncredited candy and sicken. Thereby convincing her crush that the candy maker was responsible for poisoning his wife and not her (it was definitely Christiana, btw). Later in her career as an adulterationist, Christiana sent anonymous boxes of sweets, chalked full of her preferred poison, to prominent citizens of the same city.

(This last feature of Christiana’s crimes, of course, brought Angele Laval and her infamous letter writing campaign to mind. Thank the gods above and below that Umberto Eco’s book, The Name of the Rose, wouldn’t be published for another sixty-three years — otherwise, it might have inspired her to post literally poisonous, poison pen letters….But I digress.)

Hot on Christiana’s heels, though not actually, as there are several episodes betwixt the two explorations, I re-listened the Poisoner’s Cabinet’s alcohol tinged study of Cordelia Botkin (year of crime: 1898). Who first tried to dissuade her love rival with an anonymous note. When that foray fell flat, Cordelia sent her a box of chocolates overflowing with arsenic to permanently deal with her opponent.

Talking with my husband about these cases, I idly wondered: What on earth possessed people to eat candy they neither ordered nor expected to receive in the mail? Didn’t they see the danger? Indeed common sense and penny dreadfuls would warn people away from such behavior….That’s when I recalled the whole gumball debacle of my childhood, which made me curious. Since mysteries often reflect reality, and all the fictional crimes I listed above came well after my true-crime exemplars….How often (really) did candy get turned into a weapon before 1923?

Turns out a lot, and I will explore three true-crime cases linked by candy, poison, the postal service, and love-rivals over the next few weeks.

My 52 Weeks With Christie: A.Miner©2023