|The Washington Times, November 9, 1914|
Safely ensnared into the systerm, he spoke of his travails begging for food, avoiding the gruff resistance of would-be benefactors and the sullen curs that frequently sent him off to his next unwelcome destination. He even shared his remedy for the ailments that oft plague a drifter: "three drinks of well water taken before the sun rises will sure cure you." he stated assuredly, it having served him faithfully the past half century. While the cure-all worked for the weathered tramp on the trails, it failed to follow him to the old red brick asylum on Michigan Avenue. He died before winter's end.